Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 1668

On the drive to drop Mars off, he said, “Take me to the townhouse.”

Following his directions, Milka found herself at his place for the first time. When they pulled up, Mars just sat there, not making a move to get out. “Wanna come up for a bit?” he asked.

Milka shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“It’s just for a little while, not like you’re spending the night. Come on, turn the car off and come up with me.”

“Nope.”

Still riding the buzz from his drinks, Mars got out, walked around to her side, opened the door, and took her hand. “Relax. I’m not drunk. I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to pull anything shady.”

Milka wasn’t sure why Mars insisted so much, but in the end, she couldn’t say no. She trusted him. She got out, locked up, and let him lead her inside.

He opened the door to his place. Milka glanced around, half-expecting some big surprise—maybe there was some special reason he wanted her to come up.

Mars went straight to the fridge, grabbed two bottles of water, and tossed one to her. “Are you disappointed?”

“No,” she replied.

He gave her a knowing look. “You’re so stubborn.” Mars flopped onto the sofa. “I just wanted you to see for yourself—this place is all guy. Not a hint of a woman living here. So you can relax.”

Milka gave the room another once-over. He was right—not even a stray hair that could’ve belonged to a woman. She doubted even a female mouse would want to hang out here.

Men and women really do think differently, she thought. Here she was expecting some romantic surprise, and all he wanted was to prove he lived alone.

“You’re ridiculous. Go to bed. And skip your morning run tomorrow,” Milka teased, ready to leave.

Suddenly, Mars grabbed her hand. She stopped and looked down at their fingers, intertwined.

She looked up, her face pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her. “You—"

Before she could finish, Mars silenced her with a kiss.

He might have been hazy on details from the last time, but tonight, kissing Milka felt more vivid than ever. Her lips were as soft and sweet as he remembered, her breath still carrying that scent he’d never forgotten…

He deepened the kiss, gently parting her lips, one hand cradling the back of her head, kissing her like he’d been waiting years for this moment.

Ten minutes later, Milka rushed downstairs, cheeks blazing, and dove into her car.

She smacked her forehead. “Seriously, Milka! You knew better than to go upstairs—why can’t you control yourself?”

Her face and lips—every shade of red.